Yielding Flesh
by Bayley Storme
Summary: Mostly based off of Frederick Forsyth's novel The Phantom of Manhattan. From Erik's POV. How he thrived in America and tried to gain back what he thought was rightfully his: Christine.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello there! This is something I started writing based off of The Phantom of Manhattan by Frederick Forsyth. I do not know if I should make it a one shot or not. If you all would like it to continue then let me know. This will all be from Erik's point of view mostly because in the novel there are only two chapters in which that happens. So I wanted to give further explanation and detail of his thinking and actions. **

**Ok i'm done with that. Now enjoy! **

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Prologue:

This country was built upon lies and scams as was my business. I ran this city behind closed doors though that was not to my choosing. One could say my fate was left to God, a spirit of which does not reside in my soul any longer. If there was a God, if he was kind, I would not be a monstrosity having to hide behind a mask to keep what little respect I have gained from those around me. It mattered little that I had made many rich along with myself. What was wealth if the pleasures of life did not come willingly with it? Had I ever possessed love for more then a solitary night then my intentions would have possibly been different. Had my mother loved this wretched face, I might have still lived within the homely walls of Paris. What a condescending women she was, claiming to be a nun and then turning away from one of God's children. No not his, I was the Devil's child, she had made that quite clear. Were it not for her priest, she would have rid of my carcase long before I had reached the age of one. It would have been wise for her to do just that.

Here I sit on the top of New York's tallest building, one that belonged to me. I could look out to the sea and watch the ships come in or watch as the small, insignificant beings strolled down the streets below me. I would know of course, of the robbery's and the sick entanglement of unwilling bodies. I would hear of the screams of pain as men sent a cold hand across a woman's yielding flesh. I had all to raise a hand, tell an authority of such behavior and it would be stopped. Momentarily. These men of such status believe they are doing good by stepping in the way of such a battle that it will bring justice and peace. Ha! They do not see what I have and do. These men of injustice crawl back pleading for this woman's love, telling her exactly what she wants to hear. As expected, the behavior returns shortly after reunion. They are nothing more then animals, ready to tear ones throat at a moments notice. This is why I refrain from such an interruption, I let it continue as it always will.

This past decade I have been through hell and back yet here I stand, overlooking each resident of this country. I hold more power then the President himself yet no one knows this face. I could silently lurk through the boroughs of this city and none would know that I started and run the infamous E.M. Company, which I prefer. The title standing for my name-Erik Mulheim- a ghost only seen by those of his choice. One of the few is the face of this company-Darius. I met him in the slums shortly after I had arrived to this cold city. We formed many scams along the way to get to where we are and have not to this day, been questioned of said scams. It took years to be here, many in yearning for the one love I had ever felt. I was damned to hell for the sins of which I have done in this life but that was fated at my birth.

Had it not been for myself, Darius would not be in such wealth. I have filled his head with greed and now he worships another God, Mammon. His soul is black with it. The wealth we acquire never seeming to be enough to quench his thirst for gold. Not that I could care for such a need, Darius is a pawn in my ploy. I was however glad it was he who stood next to me while we constructed much of Coney Island's amusement parks. My illusionist skills thrived in the design as well as my vast knowledge of engineering. Due to my mastery and Darius' aid, the park owner and businessman-Mr. Boyton- was greatly pleased and told others of our success. Ever since we have aided those for such projects yet taking on much more. This city has a hunger for wealth. They feed for money like a starving child. I invested in the stock market playing this game of theirs. It was simple, too simple and was often over looked except to few who understood the rules. Perhaps I now follow under Mammon's rule as well.

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**Please review and let me know if you would like it to continue! Or just your thoughts in general! **


	2. The Arrival Of A Letter

Chapter One:

So caught up was I, in my moment of solitude, that I did not notice Darius just beyond the open door. He was watching with skeptical eyes, too afraid of my potential outburst to break silence. He was wise for doing as such. Though he was my most loyal business partner, he would not dare try me. Perhaps it was cruel of I to glare over at him but I am a man of little patients. Unlike most who knew me, he was not afraid to approach, only to interrupt, something I somehow appreciated. It was after all, a rare occurrence.

To most, Darius would be rather intimidating with his dark demeanor. Not only that but his intent on wearing all black while watching behind beady eyes. We were one of the same him and I, though that is something I would never admit to. His voice was timid but only under my darkened glare.

"S-sir...I apologize for interrupting but you have received a letter. A man is here from a local newspaper alongside a Frenchman." I felt an eyebrow raise in question.

"How does that concern me any?" I had become rather accustomed to loosing my french accent of which I had gained over nearly a lifetime. It was necessary nonetheless, in order to fit in among the residents of this country. It was not wise to go about being a foreigner, they were often taken advantage of.

"They say it can only be delivered into your hands." Darius looked down at his feet, like a dog knowing he had wronged and waiting for his beating.

"Yes, well that is rather impossible now, is it not Darius?" He mouthed, 'yes sir' and I waved him along. He disappeared behind the door and I, rather curious as to this personal letter. No one knew I owned this company. The idea of a Frenchman coming to personally hand over a damned piece of parchment could only bring my mind to wander the possibilities. It was then that I felt the cold air on the balcony and went through a hidden door and into my office. After leaving the Paris opera, I had wanted to develop such passage ways again, it always brought information.

Inside my office, I stole to a painting on the far side which when taken down, revealed a small eye-hole through to another painting. I could hear and see plainly, Darius, the reporter and the Frenchman who help what appeared to be, a leather case; one that was tied neatly around its contents.

"Mr. Mulheim cannot join us unfortunately, though I would kindly take this letter and be sure he receives it within the hour." Darius watched as the reporter shook his head, I saw his fists clench tightly behind his back.

"Look, this guy says he came all the way from France to give this guy a letter, personally. I don't think it's asking too much. We can wait-"

"No. I apologize for the inconvenience sir but it is quite impossible." That was when the Frenchman spoke.

"C'est à partir de Madame Giry." My nerves tensed. Fingers clasped too tightly around the portrait which was still held in my hands. I felt the frame shatter, sending shards of wood into my gloved hands. The letter was important if Madame so felt the need to find me here. Was it Christine? Had life been kind and took le Vicomte from the world? Surly I could not be that lucky. Or perhaps...no. The thoughts could not even be formed for that would mean the end of life itself.

I, having taught Darius some casual French, made him able to reply back to the man. I had to have that letter! Using my skill of ventriloquism, I spoke softly to his ear so that only he could hear. I watched as his body tensed at the sound-I finding it rather amusing.

"I want that letter _NOW _Darius!" He gave a slight nod which could have easily been mistaken as annoyance.

"Monsieur,Monsieur, vous avez ma parole que M. Mulheim recevrez votre lettre " The Frenchman nodded and began to hand it over to Darius. The reporter stared unbelieving of the exchange as I let out an all too loud sinister laugh. No one seemed to notice except for the reporter. The all too investigating man, looked at where the sound came from and I saw his eyes widen at the sight of my own. Quickly I replaced the painting, giving him not enough time to understand what he saw. _Damn I should made this less noticeable! _

I carefully removed my gloves and sat down at my desk. What would Madame possibly have to tell me after ten long years? Damn Darius for taking too bloody long to deliver a letter! I was about to rise when the door clicked open, Darius quickly rushing over to hand the leather case over.

"I do not know what it is but they were rather persistent that you get it personally." I snatched it from his hands and waved him to leave. Once I was alone, I quickly unwound the strings to reveal a long hand written letter. The other two contents were not much of concern as to what could be held between the carefully written lines.

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**Translation: The Frenchman said: "The letter is from Madame Giry."**

**Darius said: "Monsieur you have my word that Monsieur Mulheim will receive your letter."**

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